Fireballs
by MaplePucks
Summary: Scotland loves participating in the Stonehaven New Years Eve Fireball swinging festival. Usually he does it alone but this year France insits on coming along. WIll this be the new years Scotland always wanted, with his love be his side. ScotFra (Auld Alliance)


**Hi there! So I don't ship these two usually (total FrUk fan) but this was a prize request for someone on DeviantArt. They wanted a ScotFra, so I tried my best! **

**Reviews are awesome as always!**

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Scotland placed the last crumpled wad of newspaper into his chicken wired ball and stood up, checking the time. Good, he thought, three minutes to midnight finished just in time. He looked down to admire his work, the newspaper strategically placed around, the sticks even though appearing to be haphazardly placed were exactly where he wanted them and the dirty old rags were wrapped around them. His rags were special though; different from everyone else, his were doused in gasoline. Not enough to be dangerous but enough to put on a quite a show. Scotland glanced over to his partner France, who was also putting the finishing touches onto his basket. For a brief moment, he saw something metallic catch the light before France threw it into his basket.

Scotland looked at him curiously, there shouldn't be anything metal in the basket. He did a mental count, sticks, rags, paper, other various flammable objects but no metal. What was he doing? Scotland went to ask him but France brought his finger to his lips and winked, smiling at him. Sighing, Scotland bent down to fix his basket so that it closed. France was going to do something flashy this new year's eve at the Stonehaven fireball swinging festival.

Usually, Scotland participated in this ceremony alone and it was his favorite custom that his citizens put on. Not that he preferred it alone, it just always happened that he had no one to go with. This year France had insisted on coming with him, to see what it was all about. Scotland was happy, he loved being with France. Plus, he had the sneaking suspicion that France was going to make this new years something to remember. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one more glimmer of metal be thrown in, yes definitely something to remember.

Now, off in the distance bells started to ring out. They were signifying the new year, finally midnight. Scotland nodded at France and picked up the nylon rope attached to his ball. France did the same and pulled out a box of matches. He offered one to Scotland and then lite his own. Together, they threw the matches into the wire and the balls erupted into flames. Once the balls were fully lite, they started swinging them high above their head, making their way down to the ocean. The side streets filled with people wanting to watch the spectacle.

As they made their way down the street, Scotland became more curious. His addition was instantly recognizable being the biggest in the crowd but France's looked like any ordinary fireball. The man didn't seem to be too concerned, swinging it around with a big grin on his face, doing it easily. That honestly surprised Scotland, but it shouldn't have. His love was full of surprises. All of sudden, Scotland noticed a flash of green burst from his neighbors basket. Then blue, bright red and yellows some purples even. Scotland knew what France had done to modify his basket then, he had added copper piping. The crowd owed and awwed at the colorful display, Scotland laughed and shook his head.

"Yer a showoff!" he yelled over the roar. France smiled, blowing kisses to the crowd managing to swing it with one hand. France was stronger than he looked.

"Non mon ami, simply giving zhem a pre-firework display" he said cheerfully. France was eating up the attention, it's what he lived for and he beamed at the crowd. Scotland wasn't sure what made it so beautiful and infectious but he was always entranced by France's smile. The pure joy he could bring across his face, it was wonderful.

With both of them not paying much attention, Frances fireball swung dangerously close to Scotland. He came back to reality in time to dodge but he did feel it singe his arm hairs. He got mad, glaring at France.

"Watch what yer doing! Yer going ta light someone on fire!" he yelled. France moved away slightly but he continued to smile just like always.

"Just trying to add more fire to zhat flaming red 'air of yours mon ami". He exclaimed. Scotland rolled his eyes, France was always making fun of his bright red hair.

"Yer an arse, ya know that?" Scotland quipped at him. He meant it in a loving way but still the man could be quite troublesome most of the time.

"Zo I 'ave 'eard, you are not zhe first to 'ave zhat opinion" France called swinging his fire wildly much to the crowds approval. Scotland laughed.

"Et vous êtes autoritaire, une grande gueule et l'odeur du fromage tout le temps" Scotland mumbled under his breath. France let out a huge laugh.

"I heard zhat! You smell of sheep!" He yelled looking over to Scotland. The red head blushed and went back to focusing on twirling his own fireball.

Finally they made it down to the harbor. This was the part Scotland looked forward to the most, the part that was most fun. They were about to cast the flames into the sea, burning out the old year bringing in the new. It was cathartic in a way really, so much stress that came with being a nation the year was full of trails and hardships. So Scotland enjoyed throwing the flame out and starting fresh.

They reached the edge together, for a moment stood watching all the others throw theirs in. The smoke arches filled the sky, the sound of water quelling the flames echoed off the buildings. France's colors started to blur as he spun his faster, Scotland following suit. They grinned at each other.

"One" Scotland said bending his knees to brace himself.

"Deux" France almost whispered in excitement ready to throw his.

"Three!" they both yelled launching the fire into the harbor. Theirs flew farther out then most of them and landed with a loud sizzle. One more flash of color and a giant smoke plume and that was that as that, the year was over. Scotland let out a sigh that almost mirrored all the sizzles.

When the last one went into the ocean, the sky suddenly exploded with a color show of it's own. Fireworks burst from a barge way out in the distance. Greens and blues, flower bursts, the dancing sparkles that Scotland loved, all lite up the sky in a fantastic display. As he watched the fireworks, he felt France watching him more but he was having too much fun to care. When a big Scottish flag emerged from one Scotland gave out a loud cheer of pride with everyone else. France smiled happily at his love.

Music started playing soon after firework finale and Scotland finally turned to face France. He smiled and France began to sing along with the music.

"Should old acquaintance être oublié and never brought à l'esprit?" he sang a mix of French and English. Scotland laughed and joined in.

"Shid auld akiuentans bee firgot an auld Lang syne? He sang in his Scottish accent, heading down the pathway that lined the harbor, France following him in step.

They sang together making way their way down to the festivities downtown. There was food and games, drink, all things expected for a new years eve bash. As they sang France took every opportunity to be as dramatic as possible. The wild hand gestures, singing loudly, all the things Scotland loved about the man. They got to the last verse and Scotland stopped walking making France stop as well.

"An thers a han, my trustee feer!" he sang holding out his hand for France to take. He looked at him lovingly and laced his fingers in between Scotland's.

"Et nous donner une main o'thine!" he pulled Scotland close to him wrapping his other arm around his waist. The man sighed happily and placed his forehead gently against France's.

"An we'll tak, une sécheresse volonté bonne droite, for auld Lang syne!" they sang together a combination of French and Scottish.

Gently, France pressed his lips against his lovers as Scotland's free hand ran through France's blond hair. Scotland kissed him back, biting his lip very softly. Usually he didn't like it but tonight he let France slide his tongue into his mouth. He could feel the muscles contracting against each other, it was exhilarating. This was how he always wanted to start the year, with the person he loved. Each other entwined, not wanting to let go. Scotland wished they could stay all year like this.

Eventually, however, they broke apart. Scotland was panting slightly for air, France seemingly unaffected. They continued walking one arm wrapped around the other's shoulders. The lights and sounds from the city becoming clearer and louder as they drew closer. Suddenly Scotland started laughing. France looked at him curiously.

"Mon amour, what is so funny?" he asked clearly confused. Scotland regained some composure and rested his head on Frances shoulder.

"I guess yer going ta be me first-footer this year." he snickered. France was still confused.

"First footer?" he repeated.

"Aye the first one to cross the threshold of me house. Traditions say it's good luck for it to be a tall dark man but I suppose you'll do" he chuckled. France scoffed at him but held him tighter to his body as they walked.

"Of course I will do! Who would not want France as their foot-firster!" he exclaimed throwing his other arm out to gesture to the masses. Scotland laughed at his backwards proclamation and shook his head. Slowly, he leaned in and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

"May yer new year be filled with happiness" he whispered into Frances ear.

"And may yours be filled with love." France whispered back kissing him lightly on the lips again.


End file.
